


Tangible

by jade_rabbit



Series: Stardust [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Space, Eventual Fluff, Gen, M/M, McHanzo is a background couple, Romantic Fluff, Slow Burn, Team Bonding, angela is weirdly sassy, jack is actually a ship, please suspend disbelief over questionable science
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-03 05:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8699647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jade_rabbit/pseuds/jade_rabbit
Summary: "See, in all our searching, the only thing we found that makes the emptiness of space bearable is each other." - ContactIn which Gabe is the captain of a motley crew of space travelers and his closest friend is his ship, affectionately dubbed "Seventy-Six". Loosely inspired by Star Trek but no knowledge of Star Trek is necessary.





	1. The Gift

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by a lot of different things, but the biggest inspirations were Star Trek and Andromeda (cheesy show you may or may not have seen from the early 2000s). If you remember Andromeda, then you know where this story is going.

Gabe stared. When the Shambali said they would like to give him a gift, he expected something small, like a gadget. Instead, the 'gift' was a humanoid of sorts, carefully encased in a coffin of foggy glass. The first thing he noticed was that it roughly was the size of him, although more streamline and most definitely not organic. Its 'skin' was a smooth, pearly white but the surface was broken up by veins of light that pulsed a soothing, repetitive blue. The elegant contours of the face -unnaturally doll-like in its perfection- were only broken up by a thin mouth and blank, white eyes that stared directly ahead.

 

Gabe lifted his dark eyes, brows drawn. “Ambassador, with respect, I can't take this.”

 

Zenyatta's permanently neutral expression didn't change, although his metal fingers tapped rhythmically against each other as he mulled over these words. “Why not?” Like most Shambali, he didn't have a mouth to speak with, but the words came out of the core of his scrawny Omnic body like a soothing song.

 

Gabe clenched his fists at his sides. “Overwatch does not partake in slavery-”

 

“There is no slavery in my culture, only the agreement that we must all work together in harmony,” Zenyatta corrected gently. “This Omnic is unprogrammed, it is your choice to do with it what you will. He can help you build your cities, or he can fly your ships with better reflexes than a human ever will. Or,” Zenyatta would have smiled if he could, “he can simply be a companion if you wish.”  
  
Gabe felt something twist in his gut. No part of his extensive Overwatch training prepared him for this. It almost felt like he was being handed a newborn baby, but one that could do massive damage if in the wrong hands.

 

The Shambali were a rare, near-mythical Omnic clan, founded by war machines from a long ago past. The sentient founders of the clan had walked away from the Omnic Wars and had decided not to fight, summoning all fellow Omnics who felt the same to this tiny, rustic planet with two red suns. Over time, the Shambali reproduced by combining their vast pool of knowledge and creating ever more perfect, ever more advanced 'children' in factories that they designed themselves. They strove for what they called “self-perfection” -the ability to be as hyper-strong, intelligent and self-sustaining as possible without negatively impacting organic creatures or natural environments.

 

As a result, most Shambali nowadays were sleek and humanoid, much smaller than their war machine ancestors. They barely consumed any resources, could regenerate until it was physically impossible to do so, and were powered by a nuclear heart, much like what powers space ships. While famously peaceful, they were physically powerful like all Omnics were, capable of as much strength as metal alloys could provide them. Gabe was sure he could face Zenyatta and still lose, if only because human reflexes were nothing compared to a computerized brain and metal limbs.

 

His thoughts were rudely interrupted by the a wave of Zenyatta's hand. “I understand how jarring this is to you, Captain,” the Omnic said pleasantly, as if discussing the color of the sky, “but your Overwatch as protected us for many years. Our thanks is overdue.” He gestured toward the still form in the glass case. “This is one of our newest children, fresh out of the factory. It would please us greatly if you took this part of us with you, so that we may help you in return.”

 

Gabe kept his face neutral, but internally cringed. “Then I thank you, Ambassador.”

 

Zenyatta nodded. “Peace be upon you, Captain.”

 

\---*---*---*---*---*----

 

“Boss, you not comin'?”

 

“And what, be surrounded by drunk kids and screaming music? Not my thing.” Gave waved a dismissive hand in his direction.

 

Jesse hesitated, eyebrows shooting up toward his ridiculously old-fashioned hat. “You sure? It's been a long few months-”

 

Gabe forced himself to smile, although he was always rather bad at it and he was sure it looked strained. “I have to prepare the mission report anyways, go knock yourself out.”

 

Jesse gave him a skeptical but sympathetic nod. They both knew Gabe hated bureaucracy and paperwork with a burning passion, but Admiral Amari was a stern woman and wasn't likely to forgive tardiness. Throwing Gabe a lazy, two-fingered salute, the cowboy walked away with a distinct hop to his step, cheerfully throwing an arm around Genji and Lena when he caught up to them. Lena laughed at something he said, and the three headed off in the direction of Hanzo, who was waiting quietly -arms stubbornly crossed- in the distance.

 

From his position at the base of the landing bridge, Gabe watched the four go with amusement and felt a distant, familiar sense of relief. He was proud of Jesse. The boy had been a orphan and a delinquent when he was rounded up an off-planet Overwatch bust over a decade ago. Ana Amari, the commanding officer in charge of that mission and Gabriel's superior at the time, had noticed his exceptional skills with a blaster and had recommended him to the Academy on the grounds that he'd do more good for the fleet than in some moon base jail.

 

When Gabriel inherited Amari's ship after her promotion to Admiral, he was quick to select Jesse out of the large pool of Academy graduates for his own crew. He had seen something in Jesse that was quite like himself as a young man; lost, ashamed, looking for a purpose to keep on living. Joining Overwatch had provided Gabe with the discipline and the drive to fight for a cause, and he had hoped that it would do the same for Jesse. The boy had yet to prove him wrong; he was now proudly first officer of the ship, and Gabe distantly foresaw that Jesse would make a fine captain himself one day.

 

Recruitment for his own crew had been a complicated affair. Thankfully, some members of Ana's original crew simply carried over into Gabe's if they weren't old enough or willing to retire. The most notable of those older recruits was Torbjorn, the stout, elderly engineer who should have retired years ago but was too obsessed with ships and weapons to do so.

 

The first _new_ recruit (after Jesse) was Dr. Angela Zeigler, top of Jesse's class and a medical prodigy from Switzerland. She became the chief medical officer and hired a musically-talented, baby-faced young man named Lucio as her head nurse. Dr. Mei Zhou, a tiny woman with a timid nature, was soon hired as the head of science. She was followed by Lena Oxton, a bubbly young woman who was widely regarded as the best pilot the Academy as produced in over three decades. Lena's co-helmsman was Genji Shimada, a witty young man from Japan with an exceptionally large knives collection and an insatiable appetite for pranks. Genji's older brother, Hanzo, became the head of security and brought a much-needed sense of gravity and responsibility to the crew, although his permanent sternness was no match for the “terrible trio” that was Lena, Jesse and Genji.

 

Admittedly, Gabe's crew was a bizarre lot (Ana's words, not his), but they got the job done. If his team had a reputation for being 'unruly', 'undisciplined' or 'eclectic' simply because they didn't fit the Overwatch standard 'cookie-cutter' ship crews, so be it. Gabe even took a bit of pride in that; he was far from a cookie-cutter captain, and his reputation for bending the rules to his liking earned him a great deal of respect (and enemies) throughout the fleet.

 

As it was, however, Gabe wasn't in the mood to brag about anything. They had pulled into Earth after months in deep space and he had granted everyone three weeks leave to do as they wish; crew members with families quickly disbanded to visit them, whereas the young and single often partied and relaxed at the nearest town.

 

Gabe rarely joined them. He disliked grand affairs and pleasantries, and he knew having their captain around would only make the younger members of his crew nervous. Besides, his companion of choice would always be his oldest and dearest partner, his ship.

 

Sighing, the man put his hands on his hips and looked up at the sleek, elegant design of SEP-1776, affectionately known as “Seventy-Six” by his crew. Silver all over except for parallel bands of red and blue on both arms, it wasn't the largest nor the newest ship in Overwatch's fleet, but it had been ground-breaking when it was built decades ago. It still registered as one of the fastest ships on the fleet and its impressive list of successful missions made it a well-known name amongst the interplanetary governments that funded Overwatch.

 

While it wasn't the only ship Gabe had served on in his long career (spanning from the moment he was of legal age to join space flight), it was the one that dominated the latter half of his life. Gabe had joined Seventy-Six's crew as a young helmsman, back when the ship was only a few years old and under the command of Captain Ana Amari. When he was promoted to First Officer and, later on, to Captain himself, the ship became his own to command and remained his most loyal, steadfast companion.

 

Gabe was bias, of course, but the ship AI was simply one of the best out there. Like all military AI, he -the AI had been programmed with a male voice and everyone just rolled with it- had been programmed to be polite, efficient and serious almost to a fault. However, as the years wore on, Seventy-Six began to show unique traits like an exceptionally patient nature around the young and inexperienced, a fierce sense of protectiveness for his crew, and a surprisingly sharp dry wit, probably to handle snarky captains like Ana and Gabe.

 

Gabe turned on his heel and headed back up the landing ramp. “How are you holding up, Seventy-Six?”

 

Seventy-Six answered promptly in the smooth, disembodied and curt voice he knew so well. “I am scheduled for a few days of maintenance at the dock, sir, but otherwise I am running at 95% capacity.”

 

Gabe allowed himself a rare smile. “We'll get that burst canon checked for you, I know Genji pushed you hard. I'll have another talk with him regarding respecting your max shooting speed.”

 

“Thank you, Captain.” A pause. “You're not headed to the helm.” A statement, not a question.

 

“Hng.” Gabe clasped his hands behind his back, keep his face neutral. “Is Angela onboard?”

 

Seventy-Six's silence dragged on for a split second too long. Gabe was very good at reading his pauses after all these years, and this one felt exasperated. “She is always onboard, sir.”

 

“Girl needs to do something else aside from disinfect the med bay,” Gabe grunted.

 

Seventy-Six's words were soft and deliberate. “She has nowhere else to go, Captain. I am content if she would like to live within me.”

 

 _Defending the young, as always,_ Gabe thought with amusement. “We can't protect her forever, boy scout. There's entire planets out there she hasn't explored because she's always dissecting some alien egg indoors. Getting out will do her some good.”

 

“You're one to talk, Captain,” the ship replied, amusement tingling the otherwise impeccably polite tone, “You don't leave me either.”

 

 _Got me there._ Gabriel colored a bit. “My apartment at HQ is a waste of space, so goddamn bland and sterile,” he grunted, a little too quickly.

 

“I am surprised to hear you do not prefer it,” Seventy-Six confessed quietly, and Gabe paused in mid-step at his odd tone. “Captain Amari always left to see her daughter. I did not see her often when we were grounded.”

 

 _She had reasons to leave,_ Gabe filled in the gaps, _but I do not._ Was the ship genuinely lonely or was that a simple observation of the obvious? Either way, the words sounded wistful to Gabe's ears and he subconsciously reached out to drag his fingers along the closest wall. “Can't get rid of me that easily, you know.” He wasn't sure if the ship could 'feel' the touch, but the pleasant silence that followed seemed like approval enough.

 

The med bay's wide doors loomed ahead and Gabe switched back into 'gruff, stern Captain' mode. “Angela!” he boomed as the doors slid open for him with a hiss.

 

The blond doctor jumped and spun around from what was a hunched position over a operating table. Most medical personnel had taken their leave once patients had been evacuated to land hospitals, so the med bay was unnaturally empty, leaving her looking isolated and guilty. “C-Captain.”  
  
“We landed hours ago,” Gabe pointed out, not bothering to hide his exasperation, “What are you still doing here?”

 

Years ago, when she was barely out of girlhood, Angela would have shriveled under his exasperated and disapproving tone, but she had been a part of Gabe's crew long enough to understand that this was how their gruff Captain showed affection. “Sir, are you kicking me out?” She was trying to hide a smile but failing.

 

“We're on EARTH,” Gabe stressed, frowning in response to her smile, “You can go outside, enjoy the sunshine, breathe in some fresh air.”

 

Angela rolled her eyes faintly. “With respect, sir, there is nothing out there is quite as fascinating as this.” She stepped aside and proudly displayed the Shambali android behind her.

 

It looked startlingly human for a fraction of a second, laying perfectly on the table as if just been rolled out of surgery. Then faint blue light pulsed through the 'cracks' of its skin and ruined the illusion, making it look like an eerie statue next to a living, breathing human. The light flowed through the android's body like an aurora, shifting fluidly from one end of its body to the other and back. Gabe was instantly mesmerized by it, although Angela continued to speak.

 

“It adjusts itself fantastically well to its surrounding environment. It immediately warmed up to room temperature once we removed it from its container,” she explained, excitement bubbling through her words, “Seventy-Six checked with our security and thermal cameras, he could barely pick it out of the room. It's well-camouflaged, that's for sure.”

 

Gabe sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Seventy-Six, have you been enabling her with her experiments again?”

 

“A little.” If it was possible for an AI to sound cheeky, Seventy-Six managed.

 

Gabe growled under his breath, although there was no bite to the sound. “We've talked about this. I don't want you _-any_ of you- to poke at technology we don't fully understand. The Shambali didn't exactly hand me a manual for.... _this._ ” He made a hand gesture in the android's general direction. “I haven't even told Ana-”

 

Angela's head snapped to attention. “You're going to tell the Admiral?”

 

“ _Yes_ ,” Gabe stressed, “It's alien technology that should be in an Overwatch lab somewhere-”

 

Angela let out some German words that sounded like both a protest and a curse, but Seventy-Six beat her to it. “Actually, Captain, Overwatch mandate #74-D7 says that any gift willingly provided during a diplomatic mission -as long as it is not a weapon of war nor a creature who cannot peacefully cohabit with a ship's crew- can be dealt with at the discretion of the commanding officer. The call is yours.”  
  
Gabe bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. He loved his ship dearly, but sometimes he hated that the AI had the entire _Overwatch Code of Conduct_ programmed into him. It was like he _liked_ one-upping Gabe at the worst of the times. _Sassy little fucker. “Fine,_ but that doesn't tell me what a doctor is doing with an Omnic.”

 

Angela sniffed as if insulted. “Advanced Omnic circuitry isn't so different from a nervous system. Besides, this isn't just my project, Torb and Mei are helping me.”

 

Gabe's brow furrowed. “That whole combination worries me. What have you bribed them with?”

  
“Just the usual, a chance to discover something new,” Angela said with another frustratingly cheerful smile, “Shambali technology is fascinating, we'll probably never get another chance to study one close-up. Torb is _dying_ to figure out how this thing works.” Her grin grew. “Besides, you were the one who gave us weeks off, we can choose to spend that time however we'd like.”

 

The captain eyed her warily. “Nerds,” he sighed affectionately, knowing he lost this fight. “Fine, keep your secrets, but don't blow a hole in your budget and don't let this interfere with your usual work. You're still our main doctor, Angela, and I need you ready for real problems.”

 

The woman nodded, her back straightening as she picked up the serious implication in those words. Her smile was gone now, and she was back in doctor mode. “Of course, sir.”

 

Pleased, Gabe turned to leave, but not before hearing Angela's voice calling out again – not to him, but to their ship. “Seventy-Six, a favor, please,” she said sweetly.

 

“Of course, Dr. Ziegler.”

 

“Send a long range transmission to Satya Vaswami, I believe she'll be returning from the Cygnus system soon. Let her know that I'm calling in that favor she owes me from the Academy and I'd love to catch up with her later this week. We can figure out details when she lands.”

 

“Doing so now.”

 

Gabe sent a questioning glance over his shoulder. Angela sighed at his suspicious look. “Don't worry, Captain, she was my roommate back in school. Nothing to concern yourself about.” She was already turning back to her work. “Don't keep Admiral Amari waiting.”

 


	2. The First of his Kind

Ana Amari was an endlessly fascinating woman. She was descended from a line of war heroes in Egypt and as such, she was an accomplished sharp shooter and decorated veteran at an early age. She had enlisted at Overwatch Academy against her family's wishes (to get out of her father's shadow, she claimed) and had sailed through graduation with flying colors, falling in love and bearing a daughter shortly afterwards in rapid succession. She was a lot of firsts – the first in her family to travel into space, the first Arab captain since Overwatch's inception and, later on, the first female admiral to sit on the board.  


She was also a woman who had braved tremendous, terrible losses. Her fiance had died on a mission -the infamous Quadko accident- before they finalized their wedding plans, leaving her to live a difficult double life as both fleet captain and a single mother. Fareeha was partially raised by her grandparents and partially raised by the crew aboard Seventy-Six, who gladly let the little girl run amongst them in the rare months when they were grounded on Earth. Still, the constant separation from her daughter took its toll on Ana, and Gabe remembered many nights when he'd pass the captain's quarters at night and hear her sing lullabies to her daughter via long distance broadcasts.  
  
One of Ana's last missions in space -and one of the worst missions of Gabe's life- had resulted in a long hospitalization and the loss of one eye, which she now hid with a large eye patch. It was a miracle she had walked away from the injury without brain damage, but the scare left a deep impact on all of them – Ana because she almost left Fareeha an orphan, Seventy-Six because he had almost lost his first and only captain, and Gabe because he had to perform as Acting Captain for the long months of her recovery.

 

Unsurprisingly, when Ana was offered the promotion to Admiral and a permanent position on Earth, she took it immediately. 'My daughter needs me more than you do, and Seventy-Six needs a captain who can keep up with the demands of the job,' she had said in a private moment with Gabe during her farewell party. Her lips had been smiling, and for the first time since her injury, she looked genuinely happy. 'I am leaving this ship in your extremely capable hands. Don't let me down, Gabriel.'

 

Gabe sometimes heard those words in his head when he slept. He adored Ana to death, but sometimes he wished she hadn't set the bar _quite_ so high.

 

He fidgeted with the collar of his dress uniform as he neared the end of his report. Mission reports were the worst part of the job, up there with those stuffy annual balls that he was forced to attend if he wasn't off-planet. Official reports had to worded a certain way, cover all necessary detail without wasting anyone's time, and worst of all, they had to be recorded for archival purposes.

 

It didn't matter that Ana and him had served together for many years, he still had to dress up and report to her every time they finished a mission. They were Admiral and Captain first, friends second.

 

The woman's remaining gold eye twinkled as she caught the motion, but she said nothing, calmly sipping at her familiar cup of tea as he spoke. “It seems Lumerico has still not learned that the Shambali are under Overwatch protection,” she said with a frown. The motion was exaggerated by how large she looked, projected across the wide expanse of the main helm windows.

 

Gabe ran a hand through his dark curls before returning it to its proper place at the small of his back. “They didn't put up much of a fight, Seventy-Six was able to stand his own against three of their ships. We called for backup just in case, but it wasn't needed.”

 

Ana's lips inched upward in a slight smile. “And how is Seventy-Six? Are you treating that ship right?”

 

Gabe fought the urge to roll his eyes, knowing that it'd look bad on record. They may be speaking via a private military channel, but that didn't mean Seventy-Six wasn't hearing every word. “Spunkier every day. Genji blew one of his canons during the standoff but maintenance teams are fixing it as we speak.”

 

Ana nodded. “Noted. Anything else?”

 

Gabe commended himself for not batting an eyelash. _Angela owes me._ “No, ma'am.”

 

Ana nodded. “Report accepted. I'll let you know about your next assignment in three weeks time.” They saluted each other, and she reached off-screen for a keypad that was out of sight. A small beep told Gabriel that she had stopped recording and that the file was already sent to HQ's database for storage.

 

Relaxing in her seat for the first time since the report started, Ana's eye softened. “It's good to see you, Gabriel. This mission was a long one.”

 

Gabe loosened the tight collar of his uniform, knowing she wouldn't mind now that the official technicalities were complete. “It's good to feel some real gravity under my feet,” he admitted, “although now I know why you went white so early.”

 

Ana sighed out of sympathy. Out of everyone that Gabe spoke to regularly, she was really the only one who understood the difficulties of the job. “You look quite dashing with some pepper in your beard.”

 

“You _would_ say that,” Gabe grumbled, rubbing at said beard. He needed a trim, and soon. “If I don't get a new white hair from every mission, I get one every time I hear Lena and Jesse whispering behind my back.”

 

The Egyptian woman gave him a lopsided smirk that told him that she felt no sympathy. “And how many pranks did Shimada pull off this time?”

 

“None, thankfully, although not for lack of trying.” Gabe looked off screen, as if accusing an imaginary figure. “ _Someone_ should be notifying me the moment there's any shenanigans are about to go down.”

 

“I would never let true danger come to this crew,” Seventy-Six replied smoothly, although his disembodied voice sounded appropriately scandalized at the suggestion, “I merely allow Helmsman Shimada to exert some creativity. It is good for moral.”

 

“I see Seventy-Six is just as soft for the kids as he usually is,” Ana interrupted, her grin growing into a true smile this time. She was back to sipping tea, clearly enjoying the friendly banter between old friends. “There always has to be a nice parent.”

 

Gabe did roll his eyes this time. Ana liked to joke that Seventy-Six was a parent and that the other parent was whoever was captain at the time. Honestly, she wasn't far off, but it was embarrassing that it was so true. “You always take his side. I'm wounded.”

 

“He was my ship before you were my first officer,” she responded smoothly, waving a dismissive hand. “I know where my loyalties lie.”

 

“Speaking of ships,” Gabe stressed, glaring at her with fake venom, “I heard Fareeha got offers from a few already? She hasn't even graduated yet.”

 

Ana's entire demeanor changed and she shifted uneasily. “She has _multiple_ offers, and she's determined to take one. I can't talk her out of it even if I try. I suppose I only have myself to blame for that.”

 

“Mm, she definitely has your stubbornness,” Gabe agreed, “She almost beat Lena's scores at the Academy, what did you expect? They aren't going to let a talented pilot disappear into nothingness.”

 

Ana rubbed her temple. “I know. She's just.... so young.”

 

“Not any younger than we were,” Gabe reminded her quietly.

 

They let those words hang between them, heavy and full of memories.

 

\---*---*---*---*---*----

 

The jacket went first, thrown unceremoniously over the bed the moment the door slid shut behind him. Gabe gladly slid off his knee-high uniform boots and sank his toes into the plush carpet of his private chamber, rolling his shoulders to relieve lingering tension. “Mmmmmm, much better.”

 

Overwatch crew members in space wore much more casual attires on a day-to-day basis, usually consisting of a brightly-colored, standard-issue thermal turtleneck to denote their field of specialty, a breast pin that operated as both a health monitor and a communicator, and stretchy slacks (glorified leggings, really) that provided comfort during combat or zero gravity situations. Shoes were the only thing they were allowed to wear at their own discretion, as long there were no stiletto heels (dangerous due to the g-forces involved in space travel) and everyone kept a pair of standard-issue boots at hand for formal days. Angela preferred black flats, Lena preferred running shoes, McCree preferred cowboy boots (nobody really knew why) and Gabe himself preferred silver, knee-high boots custom-made for his wide calves.

 

The captain of any active Overwatch ship always wore a white eagle pin over the heart and a black turtleneck with solid “V” of gold across the chest, neck and shoulders. It wasn't Gabe's favorite thing to wear, but those were the colors of the Overwatch symbol so he was resigned to wear them. He still preferred it over their formal blue-and-white uniforms, which were stiff and constraining after months in space.

 

Glaring at the offending uniform jacket, the captain undid the buttons of his shirt and set his precious cargo on the coffee table. He plopped bonelessly on the loveseat nearby. “Seventy-Six,” he called out as he tapped a hidden panel under the table, pulling out a glass.

 

“Yes, sir?” A pause. “Is that champagne, sir?”

 

“Mm-hmm, delivered half an hour ago from town,” Gabe said proudly, expertly popping the bottle and pouring some of the fizzy liquid into the glass.

 

“Is there a special occasion?” Seventy-Six sounded perplexed.

 

“I'd say so,” Gabe capped the bottle and leaned back on the sofa with his half-poured glass, inhaling the sharp scent and sighing happily. “I thought AIs like you had perfect memories.”

 

There was an even longer pause and when Seventy-Six's voice returned, it was extremely quiet. “You don't have to, sir.”

 

Gabe closed his eyes. Those words were familiar. “Don't do this to me, boy scout. It's tradition at this point.”

 

“I am just a ship-”

 

“-and I'm just one of hundreds of crew members who would be dead if it wasn't for you,” Gabe grunted. “You deserve it.”

 

Seventy-Six sounded exasperated and bashful all at once. “Why champagne? It's not even your favorite.” 

 

“No, but it is used for christening ships, isn't it?”

 

Seventy-Six went deathly quiet again, and this time Gabe smiled. He held up the shimmering glass to the empty air. “Happy Birthday, Seventy-Six.”

 

\---*---*---*---*---*----

 

In retrospect, it had been a fantastic trap. Ships were most vulnerable right after they drop out of warp. It took them a fraction of a second to adjust to regular space-time, throw up relevant shields and adjust to a new, much slower speed.

 

The explosion that struck them had been perfectly timed and perfectly placed – close enough that it'll do the damage it needed to, but not close enough to rip any physical holes in the hull. The entirety of of Seventy-Six rocked and shuddered from the blast, and Gabe was almost thrown out of his captain seat by the shock wave. He managed to right himself only for the lights to flicker and go off, plunging the helm into sudden and extreme darkness. Without a star system nearby, they had no large light source, so all they could see were the millions of flickering stars through the windows around them.

 

There was stunned silence for a fraction of a second, then a sudden cacophony of voices and noise as everyone's crisis training kicked into gear. A string of emergency lights flickered to life on along the contours of the floor and across key instrument panels, just enough to illuminate parts of the circular room in an eerie glow. Crewmen raced this way and that, rushing back to their home stations or to help those who have fallen get back on their feet. McCree was cursing up a storm somewhere near the back of the room from where he had been thrown into a lieutenant's work station.

 

Gabe's dark, militant voice cut through the clamor. “Seventy-Six, report!”

 

“S-Sir,” The AI's voice flickered in and out of the room like a ripped wire trying to connect. “I'm trying----I need to----progress----” His words dissolved into garbled nonsense.

 _  
_ Gabe felt his heart drop to his stomach and stay here. Seventy-Six had taken massive damage before, and the AI had always managed to stay online then. He tried not to think about it. The ship was hurting everywhere and he needed to troubleshoot the damage first. “Helm, status!”

  
Lena and Genji worked frantically at their stations, their hands flying across the touch-screen panels as they tried, desperately, to pull up any functioning systems. “Navigation is at 20% functionality, sir!” Lena reported, her normally cheerful voice tight and tense. “We can hold level, but we're a sitting duck until we get the engines online.”

 

“Life support?”  


“Stable, sir.”

 

“We have no shields,” Genji added grimly. “With the outage, we'll have them in... fourteen, fifteen minutes.”

 

 _More than enough time for an attack._ Gabe mashed his teeth and pressed the comm button on his chair. “I need all stations to report their status NOW. Engineering, report!”

 

His only answer with a strange, pulsating hum. _The hell._ His hand flew to the eagle pin over his heart, pressing on it and waiting for the faint beep that never came. “Engineering! Torb? Torb, do you read?” Still no answer, just a strange, pulsating static. “Lena, are they-”  
  
Lena swivel around in her seat, wringing her hands. “The instruments tell me that the ship is intact. They might be knocked out or-”

 

“Or they've scrambled our communications,” McCree finished, limping forward. His every-present drawl was terse and, for once, deadly serious. “This isn't a random attack, it's coordinated.” He would know. Before Overwatch, he had been part of the Deadlock gang, and they had been experts at hit-and-run techniques.

 

Gabe closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Jammed comms meant no distress signal and would also explain Seventy-Six's predicament. The AI was probably functioning the best he could with limited power, but he was incapable of speaking with his crew or other ships. That meant that the crew was on their own until the power cells regenerated. _Fifteen minutes. We have to last fifteen minutes._

 

“Chances are the attackers weren't expecting a warship,” he said slowly, his voice low and dangerous, “but they got one.” He stood, clicking open the panel under his arm and pulling out two chrome blasters, one of which he tossed to McCree. “Everyone, blasters out, set to stun. We're going to have company.”

 

McCree gave a dry grin as he twirled the blaster lightly in his hand. “Music to my ears, boss.”

 

\---*---*---*---*---*----

 

The optimism didn't last. McCree instantly nailed three of the attackers with his faster-than-eye draw, but he froze on the third shot, as did Gabe, Lena and anyone else with their guns drawn.

 

A crew of massive, bulky aliens – rotund and humanoid, but many times heavier- had forced their way through the helm door, shoving aside the twitching bodies of their fallen brethren without the hint of a sympathy. None of their faces were visible due to crude breathing apparatuses strapped to their heads, but the rest of their bodies were exposed, revealing massive expanses of thick skin drawn tight over mounds of flesh. _Suidae_ , Gabe remembered instantly from one of his first missions in space, _They overheat easily due to their bulk._  
  
One of the Suidae gleefully dangled the still body of a man with long black hair and a blue uniform at the stunned crew, using the man like a human shield as they squeezed through the door.

 

Genji's horrified cry broke the tense standoff. “ _Nii-san_!”

 

The alien shook Hanzo's body like a limp doll and pressed the massive barrel of a scrap gun to the poor crewman's head. It grunted something in very low frequency under the mask. Without Seventy-Six to translate, nobody understood the words, but the message was still clear; _drop your weapons or this one dies._

 

Gabe stared hard at Hanzo's still form. To his relief, the younger man stirred, but what was visible of his face was smeared with blood. Judging by some wounds oozing dark blood on the Suidae though, he had put up one hell of a fight. _Good boy._

 

Every part of Gabe wanted to stand his ground and fight, down to the part of him that grew up on the streets of LA and regularly got into fist fights with neighbors. However, Hanzo was a crew member and Overwatch protocol directly stated that no crew member was to be left behind if there was even a chance of saving them.

 

“Stand down,” he said, loudly so that all of his crew within earshot could hear. Slowly, with great care, he opened his arms and held up his hands up in the universal peace signal. He opened his right hand and dropped his blaster to the ground, flinching as the sharp clang filled the suddenly hushed room.  
  
Hesitantly, one by one, the other officers followed. McCree was the last, his free hand shaking with rage as he slowly laid his blaster at his feet. His stormy eyes were focused solely on Hanzo, but he amazingly held his tongue, just like Gabe hoped he would. Years ago, the young man would have cursed them off in as many alien and human languages he could manage, but age and experience had taught him that he was not the best choice for delicate diplomatic situations such as this one.

 

“Oi, did I miss the good stuff, mate?” a cheerful, surprisingly clear voice broke the tense silence. To everyone's surprise but the Suidae's, a lanky human man squeezed into the room, expertly shoving aside the flesh bodies of his companions. He was dressed haphazardly in an old jump suit, with a vest of traps, belts and pockets strapped to his bony frame. One of his legs was missing and he hobbled along on some makeshift peg leg that was far too short for him. That didn't seem to bother one bit though, if the massive, shit-eating grin on his face was anything to go by.  
  
“Heeeeey, look at all you fine ladies and gents! Must admit, my bombs have never trapped an Overwatch ship before, but can't complain.” He opened his arms and spun around, gesturing in every direction. “Look at this beauty! We're gonna be rich!”

 

Gabe's dark eyes glared death and murder at the back of his head. “Attacking a federation vessel is an act of war,” he growled.

 

The manic-looking man just shrugged. “Don't got no planet to speak for, not sure who you're gonna announce war against. We're just a bunch of junkers look for parts.”  
  
“Still illegal.” Gabe glanced at Hanzo. “And if you've killed any of my crew, that's murder.”

 

The one-legged man hobbled up to him, less cheerful now. “A lotta talk for a guy with no weapon. What's your name, boss-man?”

 

Gabe narrowed his eyes at him, every part of him tense despite never dropping his open hands. “You can call me 'Captain' like everyone else on this ship,” he snarled.

 

“Oookay. Name's Fawkes, _Captain_ ,” the other man mocked, giggling at him. “Pleased to meetcha, but don't get the wrong impression, all I care about _is_ your rank. We're gonna keep you because you'll fetch us some pretty pennies when Overwatch realizes they've lost one of their precious capt'ns.” He clapped his hands and two of the Suidae stepped up, one with a chain and the other with a collar of some sort.

 

McCree glanced at him, alarmed. “Boss, no.”

 

Gabe scowled apprehensively at the weapons. They were crude tools used for cattle, but they would be more than enough to truss up a human man. His pride stung at the thought, but there were more pressing matters to attend to. “If you take me, what will you do to my crew?” he demanded as one of the Suidae grabbed his arms and wrenched them painfully his back to tie them with metal chains. He kept his face as stoic as possible as the collar was placed over his neck. It looked and felt older than he was, all rusted and painfully sharp along the edges. He was sure there was still dried blood on it.

 

“Eh, we'll just push them out the support pods or something. I don't like spilling blood on a pretty ship.”

 

A murmur of alarm went around the room. They weren't near a planet or any solar system; those pods would only support them for a few days, max, but they would eventually run out of life support.

 

Gabe's heart skipped a beat. He opened his mouth to protest, but the collar suddenly hummed to life and zapped him. Pain exploded through his body like being stabbed by a million hot knives and he crumpled to the floor despite himself, biting back a scream. _Be strong,_ he chanted to himself, deeply shaken. _Only a few more minutes._

 

“Boss!” He heard McCree protest close to him, followed by the muffled sound of a frantic but short-lived struggle. “That's a bit much, ain't it??”

 

“Nothin' personal,” Fawkes giggled, “Wasn't a collar built for humans but we had to improvise, eh? Anyways, can't have the capt'n give out any orders, it kind of interferes with the whole stealing a ship thing.”

 

“You can try,” Lena spoke up, her voice defiant despite her hands also being up in the air, “but this ship won't go anywhere with you.” She stood with her feet solidly apart and her back to the navigation helm, as if protecting it with her body.  
  
Fawkes tilted his head at her in curiosity. “What was that, Sheela?” He nodded toward the girl and watched with satisfaction as a Suidae threw out a massive hook, grabbed her around the waist and all but hauled her off her feet. She hit the nearest wall with a loud _oof_ and fell into a twitching ball of limbs, groaning from the impact. Fawkes laughed. “ _Oops_ , guess I'm the new pilot.”  
  
_They need me._ Gabe tried to stand back up but bit back a cry when he was rewarded with another jolt for his efforts. Shaking from pain and a gut-wrenching sense of helplessness, he watched with bleary eyes as Fawkes hobbled over and plopped himself in Lena's vacated pilot seat. Genji glared hatefully at him, but with his brother held hostage and his captain in chains, he couldn't do much without risking their lives.

 

The wild-looking man rubbed his hands gleefully as he studied the complex panels and screens. “Oooooh, fancy stuff, I _like_ it. Now, where is that handy autopilot?”

 

“Present.”

 

The new voice barely registered as _familiar_ in Gabe's brain before Fawkes jumped up, startled. “Who-”

 

And that was when the world _changed_. Gabe inhaled sharply as he felt himself literally lift from the floor, floating upward until he hovered only a few feet away from the ceiling.His legs kicked on instinct but hit nothing. Awe and confusion momentarily replacing pain, he craned his neck around to find the all of the crew, Fawkes and the Suidae awkwardly trying to adjust to sudden zero gravity.

 

All except for one. A lone figure -human, definitely not Suidae- stood in the open door, framed by the white emergency lights from the outside hallway. He cut an impressive shape with powerful limbs and a lean figure, but no one could make out his face in the dimmed light of the control room. Worst of all, he didn't seem armed.

 

 _Who is this idiot?_ Gabe thought frantically, his brain trying to catch up, _Why doesn't he have a gun??_  
  
Fawkes seemed equally baffled but also pissed. “ _Get 'em,”_ he roared, squirming in place.

 

The Suidae tried, bless them. Their massive bulk rotating slowly in the air like a terrible imitation of a planet, they wriggled, stretched and tried their best to even be in a position to shoot or hook the stranger. One hook sailed toward him in zero gravity, but to everyone's surprise, the stranger calmly snatched the hook out of midair and snapped the chain. _Shattered_ it was probably the better description.

 

The hair stood up on the back of Gabe's head. _Looks like a human, but not a human._

 

Chain dealt with, the newcomer walked into the room with silent, cat-like grace. Gabe noticed two things instantly. One, it should be utterly impossible for anything that wasn't bolted down to be on the floor right now, but here this guy was, walking around like he owned this room. Secondly, to make matters stranger, this person wore nothing – no shoes, no pants, no shirt, and _certainly_ no underwear. Under different circumstances, Gabe would have paused to admire the sight, but his senses were on high alert from sheer disbelief.

 

The stranger padded toward them, silent as only a barefoot person could be, until he was directly under where Fawkes and Gabe were floating. The captain could make out a face now – striking beautiful, with strong cheekbones, a thin nose and icy blue eyes framed by long, dark lashes. He was sure he had never seen the man in his life, and yet.... Something nagged at him.

 

“What is this?” Fawkes broke the silence first, staring at the newcomer with wide eyes filled with fear and fascination. “What _are_ you?”

  
“I am the first of my kind,” the stranger answered, his voice clear as a bell and still so _painfully familiar. “_ However, if you prefer analogies, on this ship, I am God.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That last line was a bit OOC for Jack, but the scene was the inspiration for this whole story and I couldn't bear to change it very much from the original (which is from the TV show Andromeda). Once again, this story ran away with me and ended up being much longer than anticipated. The next chapter will be hopefully shorter.
> 
> PS - I do love Junkrat and Roadhog, I just needed a scapegoat and they fit the bill.
> 
> PPS - Suidae is the Latin name for the hog / pig family.


End file.
